


Direct Your Passion With Reason

by lynndyre



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Families of Choice, Family, Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/pseuds/lynndyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set within S1e18, 'The Waterbending Master'.     Iroh's pov after the explosion of Zuko's ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Direct Your Passion With Reason

Iroh had never had his brother's or his nephew's slender build. He carried his weight well, but the run from the mountain path to the docks was, by the end, a frantic stumbling rush.

"Zuko…"

The ship was ablaze from stem to stern, but the cabins and the stores were burning brightest. As though Iroh had needed more than that first explosion to know this for the sabotage it was. He let himself sink to the docking, the portrait of an exhausted and grieving man. It gave him time to make himself think. 

At Zuko's current level, unbent fire was a lesser danger than the lack of air, or the explosion itself. Below deck, without clean air… Iroh paused. There was something in the water. Not metal or rope or glass. Red silk, torn and clinging to a broken bit of wood.

Zhao, without even the grace to pretend at regret, was instructing his men in extinguishing the wreck. Iroh rose before Zhao could remember himself enough to offer false platitudes, and made his way back through the crowd, slowly, sadly, and without notice.

Outside the circle of light, Iroh stepped down from the path and followed the sand, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. If the robe his nephew had been wearing was in the water, then Zuko had not been trapped. Had not burned to death, with the last words in his ears the nagging of an old man. It hurt to breathe, and Iroh swallowed against the pain and dug his stubby fingernails into his palms until he could be sure of seeing the dark northern beach, and not the shadows of the walls of Ba Sing Se.

If the harbor currents were favourable-- there, wedged between the rocks, half in and half out of the freezing water, was the answer to Iroh's half-uttered prayers. He stirred as Iroh came nearer, pushing himself up on the rocks, one hand raised to defend. At Iroh's low 'Zuko' he relaxed, and both hands went to the task of keeping himself upright.

"Damned pirates." He broke off, coughing, and Iroh knelt in the surf to catch him, keep him from falling forward against the rocks.

"Come, we'd better get out of the water."

Together they managed to stagger up the beach, out of line of sight from the port. Zuko shivered harder as the wind bit through his thin sleeping shirt. 

"Why do you mention the pirates?"

"I saw their reptile-bird from the bridge, just before everything blew."

Iroh wrapped his arm around his nephew's torso, silently urging Zuko to lean as much as needed. "That is indicative. Though not, perhaps, the whole story. It is strange a pirate crew should feel themselves so free to operate, directly under the nose of the Fire Navy."

Zuko hissed, teeth chattering. "And they attacked as soon as the crew were gone. As soon as Zhao removed them."

"It is not proof, but I believe it might be wise to allow whoever was behind this to believe, for the time being, that they have succeeded."

Zuko nodded, coughed into his fist. The cough drove him to his knees, and Iroh followed, feeling the ocean chill of Zuko's flesh, colder than any firebender should be.

"Use your breath of fire, Prince Zuko. Let your inner flame follow your breathing, let the heat warm your blood."

Zuko shivered, good eye squinting as he concentrated, until fresh blood seeped from the cuts on his face. Iroh rested his hand on his nephew's back, felt his torso grow a little warmer. Zuko breathed out an uneven flare, like a guttering candle, then his gut clenched, and with the next exhale he spit up, half seawater and half the remains of his supper. 

Iroh cupped a small flame in his hand, and brought it low to the sand, until he could make out the grains of rice. Zuko coughed, hiccupping warm air. "That's disgusting."

"Yes, it is. You really must chew more thoroughly." Something tight and cold in Iroh's chest unwound itself a little further. "But there is no blood."

Zuko blinked, as though that danger had not even entered his mind.

"Breathe."

Zuko breathed.

"I will have to return to the port; Admiral Zhao will be expecting to find me nearby. I should be able to find you better clothing and supplies, and meet you again in a few hours."

Zuko straightened. "Find me a uniform. Anything with a faceplate."

"Of course. But-"

"If I haven't got a ship, I'll let Zhao take me there himself."

Iroh sat back on his heels, laying the scenario out tile by tile. It was dangerous, but … "He has asked me to be part of his invasion force more than once. Without you, it will not surprise him if I accept."

Zuko exhaled one last lick of flame, no longer shivering, then knelt forward as the light faded. "Uncle? Uncle, your hands are shaking."

His fingers were warm now, around Iroh's, and Iroh could no longer stop himself pulling Zuko close enough to hug, stiff and angry and warm and _alive_. His phoenix tail dripped seawater over Iroh's wrist, and after a minute he raised his arms to pat awkwardly at Iroh's back.

"Uncle Iroh?"

Iroh smiled, eyes full. "I'm very glad you're alright."


End file.
